The Gift
by BlueSunflower
Summary: She should have known that what she held wasn’t what it initially appeared to be. Imagination was always involved in everything Charlie did, and he had quite the imagination. He never saw things as they were, but what they could be.


A/N: This was originally a MUCH darker piece. Lots and lots and lots of angst. I thought it would also work as something more light-hearted, and which only involved Charlie and Claire.

"Charlie, calm down!" Claire laughed. The rocker standing in front of her abruptly stopped his fidgeting. She knew that wouldn't last long, though. As if on cue, he immediately started up again, unable to contain his nervousness.

Trying to ignore the bundle of energy that was her friend, Claire studied the gift in her hands. It was small and wasn't heavy. It was also the worst wrapped present she had ever seen in her life. She winced thinking about how Charlie must have mangled that poor leaf he had used as paper. The plant probably never saw him coming. Trying desperately to figure out where to start unwrapping, she was suddenly interrupted by a pair of hands attempting to help.

"Shoo!" she rebuked him. "My gift, not yours. You already got your Christmas present."

Charlie instantly backed off. He looked down at his feet and mumbled, "Sorry." Then he looked back up with a sly grin. "It's just that, well, it's bloody Christmas, Claire, and you're taking too sodding long."

Exasperated, she complained, "I'm so glad I'm not your mum, Charlie. You must have been a nightmare as a child." A look came over him at that, and she thought maybe she had unintentionally reminded him of something painful from his past. The look disappeared quickly though, and he resumed his usual distracted self.

"Hurry up!" he whined.

Finally giving up, Claire just used a fingernail to tear a hole in the leaf. Pulling it off, she was puzzled at what she found herself holding. "It's a rock," she said slowly.

Charlie's grin faded and she swiftly tried to rectify her mistake. Adopting her most gracious smile, Claire praised brightly, "But what a beautiful rock it is! It's so smooth and shiny. You must have taken a lot of time finding and cleaning this. I'm sure I'll find some use for it..." she tapered off. Perking back up, she leaned in to give him a hug and added, "It's absolutely gorgeous! I love it, Charlie. Thank you so much!"

He stared at her for a second, then chuckled. "It's ok, love. You don't have to pretend you know what it is."

Relief washed over her. "That obvious, huh?"

His eyes twinkled. "A little," he agreed. Taking her hand with the rock still in it, he turned serious and started to explain, "First, it's not a rock, it's a stone."

"Oh." Claire was barely listening. All her focus seemed to be on the contact between them.

"Second," he continued patiently. "It's not just any stone, it's called a worry stone."

"A worry stone." She should have known that what she held wasn't what it initially appeared to be. Imagination was always involved in everything Charlie did, and he had quite the imagination. He never saw things as they were, but what they could be. This rock shouldn't have been any different.

Closing the distance between them, Charlie's voice lowered and became huskier. "Yes, and before you ask, I'll tell you. When you have worries, you rub the stone. It will take them away." He started rubbing his thumb over hers. Claire struggled to concentrate on his words now. Gently, he told her, "You've got a lot of worries, love. A lot of responsibility here. This is to help. Especially," he purposely held her gaze, "for those worries you don't want to confide to your friends." With that, he let go of her hand. Claire missed the heat already.

Overwhelmed, she tried to pull herself together. Raising a hand to brush some errant hair off his brow, she managed sincerely, "Thank you. It's truly beautiful."

Moving away, he smiled. "You're welcome, Claire. Merry Christmas. I hope it works." He turned and left, heading back to the beach.

When he was finally out of sight, Claire quietly whispered after him, "Merry Christmas, Charlie. It already is."


End file.
